Pillow talk

It’s been a long day; when the adrenaline ebbs in a rush, everything hits me all at once. I pull out of Bailey and climb onto the bed; we end up spooning, and from the way she snuggles into me, it looks like it was a long day for her too. “That was out-fucking-standing,” she murmurs sleepily. “I’ve never had my hair pulled before . . . that was amazing.”

“You haven’t?” I ask, the surprise waking me up a little. “I assumed—you’ve been asking me to be dominant and fuck you hard—”

“Oh, Ben, you beautiful man,” Bailey says tenderly, turning her head to kiss me. “I want that from you because I’ve never had it—not good, anyway. I’ve only had sex with boys. Nice boys don’t know what they’re doing, they’re hesitant about what we want, they think they have to ask permission for everything, and we end up having to tell them what to do all the time. Sometimes the sex with them is pretty good, but it’s all slow and gentle—I like that, but I want more than that. I’ve tried getting it from bad boys, but they just know how to take what they want. Mostly I’ve had to lie to them and go frig myself later.

“Bad boys really just want a pussy, while all the nice boys are too anxious about offending us or disrespecting us or something to let themselves want us. I want a man who wants me, and wants me so badly he can’t stop himself from taking control and fucking my brains out; I want to be dominated because I want to feel desired. I want a man to take charge and fuck me right, not just for himself, but for me, because he gets off on making me cum as much and as hard as he can. That’s what makes my teenage pussy dripping wet.

“I think we all feel this way. It doesn’t mean all of us want to be railed hard and called a slut. It’s not that we want whips and chains or to be tied to the bed—well, some of us might think being tied to the bed sounds fun, we’d just like to try doing the tying, too—put it this way, I don’t want a man to dominate me because he gets off on dominating women, I want a man to dominate me because he gets off on me, as much because he wants to hear me cum screaming his name as because he wants to blow his load inside me. If he happens to be hot, so much the better. And we all have always thought you’re sexy, and then Lily started telling stories, and we realized you’re the kind of man we all want to fuck. You’re the man of my sweet little kitty’s dreams, and all of ours.

“So, yeah, Ben, I loved having my hair pulled. I loved feeling you take control of me and give me the fucking I needed, I loved feeling your lust for me—and I loved the way it opened my kitty up so you could fuck me deeper than I’ve ever felt before. Yeah, I could tell,” Bailey adds, the grin on her face clear in her voice, “even with you fucking my brains clean out of my head. I could tell it aligned my tight little hole perfectly with your cock so you could go all the way in, and I loved it.

“And the way I talked to you—?” I ask.

Bailey turns her head to give me another kiss, long and slow and luxurious. “Yes,” she whispers, looking me in the eyes for a moment before returning her head to the pillow. “That makes me feel the fact that I want you so badly, I want to be a little slut for you—I want to be your cockwhore, your little fucktoy—because I want to do whatever you ask me; and it makes me feel the fact that I can trust you, that I feel safe to be your little fucktoy because I know you won’t hurt me—I know you won’t do anything that isn’t as much for my pleasure as it is for yours.”

“Practice safe sluttiness?” I murmur, relief allowing weariness to claim me at last.

“Something like that,” Bailey responds with a sleepy giggle. I give her tits a gentle squeeze; she moans softly and covers my hands with hers, and just like that, we drift together into a satisfied sleep.